


Under My Skin

by KarsKars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gymnast Lance, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, PINING KEITH, POV Alternating, Role Reversal, Sniper Keith, Sniper Lance (Voltron), Swordsman Keith, Swordsman Lance, lance is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29025000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarsKars/pseuds/KarsKars
Summary: After an injury, Lance and Keith switch roles on the team for a movement, leaving both Paladins to learn to grow and mutually respect each other's skills.Excerpt:“Yeah, Lance, go stand in one place and miss your shots.” Keith jabbed under his breath.“You know what? NO, nope, nuh uh - that’s it, I’m done, I’ve had enough!” Lance turned back to face Keith, having already started his return to the mats. “You think it’s so easy? Huh? I say we switch! Your stupid ankle should be perfectly fine just standing around!”“Fine!” Keith responded leaping at the opportunity to get back into action, “I’ll show you how to actually hit a target.”“Great!”“Yeah, great.”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 155





	Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShiranaiAtsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiranaiAtsune/gifts).



> This took me WAY too long to get out (a year and a half to be exact) but I really hope it was worth the wait! A massive thank you to [Sampai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampai66/) for beta'ing this for me! 
> 
> Request from ShiranaiAtsune for some bad-ass Lance, former gymnast Lance, role-swap, and Klance shenanigans.

Lance threw his bayard to the ground behind him, the weapon shifting back into its dormant form as it bounced across the training deck.

“There, no weapons - now AT ME BRO!” he challenged, throwing his arms wide as his upper body leaned in closer to his rival.

At some point in their training sessions, he and Keith would usually stop sparring with each other and instead begin to actually fight. Lance didn’t always know what prompted these slides into confrontation, sometimes it was as simple as bumping into one another. But this time he knew exactly what had caused their spat: Keith was being a dick.

Well, more than usual at least. Keith was generally a dick - it was, like, his default setting or something. But today was worse than usual.

Their Red Paladin had waltzed into the training room, all casual grace and fluid movements. He’d stepped up onto the mats, activating his bayard mid-stride, and spun the weapon around in his grip with a flourish; a stupid smug smirk planted on his stupid smug face. It instantly got under Lance’s skin. 

How could anyone be that smooth and yet so utterly … _UGHHH_! There were no words to describe the way Keith made him feel. Just being in the other’s proximity made Lance’s blood boil in his veins. Keith thought he was such a badass, thought he was so smooth with his sword and his stupid emo hair. But Lance was just as smooth; it was just harder to showcase when he had to stand still and crouch to take a shot. All the while stupid Keith and his stupid sword would slide around gracefully, leaping and jumping and bouncing between targets, then taunting Lance.

“ _You gonna just stand there?”_ He’d say when Lance was in the zone. The distraction usually enough to cause him to miss a shot and the resulting taunt of “ _Oooo nice shot_ Sharpshooter” would throw him off for the rest of their practice.

Lance knew he shouldn’t let Keith get under his skin like that, really, he did. But it was just so hard to let the comments go. Especially when he knew with absolute certainty that if their roles were reversed Lance could slice circles around that emo prick. 

“Lance, you need to focus on the task at hand.” Shiro had called out sternly from the other side of the mats. 

Lance had let an orb zoom past his head, not even noticing it at all as the hovering round bot sailed by him and shot Keith in the foot. It was a mistake, honestly, it was, but he sorta-kinda-maybe didn’t regret it.

“Keep your quiznaking head in the game, Lance!” Keith growled as he hobbled off the mats and therefore out of firing range of the bots. Lance couldn’t really say anything back, not without earning a grade A scolding from Paladin Dad, so instead, he turned his back to the team and, fully facing Keith, stuck out his tongue.

“Real mature jackass,” Keith sneered. 

“Keith: language! Lance: leave him alone!” Shiro commanded with finality and Lance didn’t argue with him, instead, he turned around and trotted back to the center of the mats. “Okay, everyone needs to focus, no distractions. Keith, stay on the bench and sit this one out -”

“WHAT??”

“- everyone else, get into formation.” 

They’d continued their training session for another whole hour, Keith grumpily sitting on the sidelines the entire time. He’d kept shouting out observations no one had asked for, particularly at Lance, and it was starting to drive the Blue Paladin batty.

Finally, Lance had lost his cool. After one of the round orbs sailed between his legs to shoot Pidge in the back, Keith had yelled at Lance from the bench about focusing on his surroundings and learning to actually aim. So Lance turned towards the benches and shot the space directly beside where Keith was seated, leaving a smouldering scorch mark on the otherwise pristine wall next to his stupid, arrogant head. 

It startled him more than a little and a very pissed off Keith leapt from his seat in an attempt to charge at Lance. Except, he had seemingly forgotten about his injury and promptly fell face-first onto the ground as his ankle gave out.

Keith cursed _loudly!_ The harsh words echoing in the large room and Lance heard Shiro groan in exasperation. But that didn’t stop Keith, the boy soldiered on regardless of the pain and limped his way over to the mats to face off with Lance. 

Good. Great. Awesome. Lance loved a challenge. 

Keith lunged at him, but the weight of the bayard in his hand, coupled with the force needed to swing, made him drop to his knees again in pain. He pushed himself up but nearly dropped again at his first step. 

Keith cursed under his breath but forced himself to press on, he moved towards Lance with a gleam in his eyes as he let fly a wicked right hook that would have hurt like all hell if Lance hadn’t blocked him with the frame of his gun. 

Keith growled in anger and pain. “That’s fucking _bullshit!_ ” He yelled. “You’re cheating!” 

Lance stormed closer, back into striking range and threw his bayard to the ground behind him. “There, no weapons - now AT ME BRO!” he challenged and was immediately met by Keith’s advances. 

They fought back and forth for a minute tops before Lance swiped Keith’s good leg and the weight on his injured ankle was too much for him to bear. The Red Paladin crashed to the mats, hard, and the loud snap almost seemed to echo.

Lance froze for a second, just long enough to watch the expression on Keith’s face morph from frustration to shock to confusion. He tried to get up, to force himself to stand but there was no way it was happening, it was as if he didn’t notice that his ankle was completely broken. 

Shiro rushed the scene first, dropping to his knees beside Keith, and ordering Hunk and Pidge to get Coran. The Yellow and Green Paladins left in a flurry, Hunk muttering under his breath a litany of concerns. 

* * *

The healing pod opened approximately two hours later and Keith stumbled out into Shiro’s waiting arms. His ankle was obviously still sore, based on how he favoured it, but at least the break had been healed. 

Coran explained to them all that the pod could heal the break but it couldn’t fully repair the wound given Keith’s mixed blood. Something about the way Galran and Human muscle structure differ from one another enough to cause an error in the pod’s system. Coran went on to say that he would work on correcting this for future injuries but that he would essentially need to enter Keith as his own species and blah blah blah Lance had stopped listening.

Keith looked … well, upset. That was the best way to describe it. On the surface, he was taking the news that his biology was completely different from the rest of the team pretty well, but Lance had gotten to know his tells like the back of his hand. Knowing when Keith was upset was pretty useful when you’d made it your life’s goal to piss him off, after all. So Lance felt confident in his conclusion that Keith was not taking the whole “Put you in as your own species” thing lightly. 

On top of that, Coran advised Shiro not to let Keith participate in training sessions until his ankle was healed. Keith almost seemed to take that news worse. Classic Keith.

“What do you mean I can’t join? I can still contribute!” Keith had argued, stepping forward to challenge Shiro and wincing at the spike of pain from doing so. 

“Keith, you can’t,” Shiro tried to reason with him, his voice calm and understanding. “You’re injured and you need to heal. If you join our training sessions you’re only going to make the injury worse. You heard Coran, no running, no jumping, no fighting. I’m sorry but this is how it needs to be.”

“It’s bullshit!” Keith spat back. “Lance and Hunk just stand there. If they’d move around more I wouldn’t have to be everywhere at once!” 

“Lance has a rifle and needs to stay still so he can aim, Hunk has a blaster and needs to plant his feet so he can shoot,” Shiro explained, “you can’t stay put with a sword. Which means you can’t participate in our training sessions, Keith. Get some rest, heal, and in a few weeks you can pick up where you left off. That’s an order.” 

Keith grumbled about it but ultimately didn’t put up too much of a fight. They had dinner shortly after, Hunk having tried another variation of food-goo casserole, then all five Paladins worked on their bonding exercises. Afterward, Keith stormed (or more accurately _hobbled_ ) off to the showers and eventually his room, shutting the door and not emerging again until simulated morning.

* * *

“Lance, shoot the damn drones BEFORE they fire!” Keith called from the bench as one of the orbs shot the ground at Shiro’s feet, the Black Paladin having jumped out of range at the last moment. “Pidge, get low - Pidge, jump dammit - Hunk, _move_ , don’t just stand there! - Lance, Lance, shoot faster - You missed again - AND AGAIN - Hit the quiznaking target, Lance! - Shiro, on your left, no LE-GOD DAMMIT, SHIRO!

This went on for far, far too long. Finally, Lance snapped. He’d snapped yesterday and he was snapping again today!

“Shut up, Mullet!” he yelled across the room when Keith chastised him for missing another shot. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut uuuuup!!!” 

Keith rolled his eyes and scowled, well, more than he already was. “I’ll shut up when you PAY ATTENTION!” he shot back and Lance had enough. He charged over to the benches, sheathing his bayard in the process, and leaned in close enough to watch Keith’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“Stop. Distracting. Us.” He seethed, clapping each word right in Keith’s stupid face, “you’re the reason we keep messing up!” god he was so stupid!

“Oh, please, don’t blame me ‘cause you suck at your one thing, _sharpshooter.”_ Keith mocked, his eyes narrowing in a challenge.

“Too mean, Keith. Too mean.” 

Instead of rebutting, Keith merely rolled his eyes and huffed. “Get out of my face, Lance,” he said as he shoved the Blue Paladin back.

“I’ll get out of your face when you stop getting on my nerves!” he spat, leaning right back in.

“Ughhhhhh,” Keith eloquently countered, “this is _torture!_ Why do I have to be here if I’m not allowed to participate!” 

“Because we’re still a team and you need to be present,” Shiro answered, his patience clearly slipping.

“Yeah, it’s not _our_ fault you suck at your ‘one-thing’ and got yourself hurt, Mullet.” Lance mocked, hands on his hips and a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Keith narrowed his eyes menacingly, “yes, it is!” He shouted back, “YOU missed the shot, YOU let the orb float right past _your stupid head,_ and YOU -”

“ENOUGH!” Shiro finally yelled, cutting off the rest of Keith’s rant. “Honestly, I’ve absolutely _had_ it with you two. Keith, stop nit-picking everyone’s moves. Lance, leave Keith alone!”

“Yeah, Lance, go stand in one place and miss your shots.” Keith jabbed under his breath.

“You know what? NO, nope, nuh uh - that’s it, I’m done, I’ve had enough!” Lance turned back to face Keith, having already started his return to the mats. “You think it’s so easy? Huh? I say we switch! Your stupid ankle should be perfectly fine _just standing around_!”

“Fine!” Keith responded, leaping at the opportunity to get back into action, “I’ll show you how to actually hit a target.”

“Great!”

“Yeah, great.”

* * *

Likely fueled by pure spite, Keith managed to shift his bayard into a rifle. 

The gun looked _slightly_ different from Lance’s. Though it was red instead of blue, it lacked a scope and had a much longer barrel. Yet this didn’t seem to hinder him in the slightest as Keith was able to narrow in and target the orbs with surprising precision.

Lance’s sword, on the other hand, was completely different from Keith’s. Aside from it being blue, it had a long elegant handle where Keith’s had been a crossbar style. Lance’s sword was also long and broad and smooth as it tapered into a sharp point, while Keith’s had been jagged and slightly shorter. 

He’d made a joke about how even Keith’s sword was shorter than Lance’s, and Keith shot him right in the chest plate. That was when Shiro called off the rest of their training.

Now Lance was sitting in his room, staring at the new form his bayard was able to take, and wondering why he’d pushed Keith so far. The Red Paladin’s position on the team, their resident swordsman and parkour badass, was surprisingly not as easy of a role to fill as he’d first imagined. The constant exertion of running and jumping and swinging was taxing, not to mention the physical effort it took to cut down an opponent. The whole exercise had left Lance utterly exhausted after only 20 minutes and slightly relieved when Shiro called off the training early.

In a way, it pissed him off that Keith was able to just take over his role on the team without breaking a sweat; injured ankle to boot. If Lance was going to beat him, then Lance would have to push himself harder than he had in a long time. It was his first year at the Garrison all over again; constantly in Keith’s shadow fighting to be seen, to be good enough. 

Ugh, he’d hated that time and he’d hated Keith for how much he’d hated it. Lance had made it to his dream school only to be stuck as a cargo pilot because he wasn’t good enough. Then, to add insult to injury, when he’d finally been promoted to fighter pilot it was only because stupid, perfect, naturally talented, arrogant, volatile Keith had been expelled. Lance hadn’t been good enough, Keith just had a bad attitude and Lance was the best of the _losers_ in cargo class _._

But not this time. Nuh-uh, no way! Lance was going to prove that he was just as good as Keith - hell, better even! He wasn’t going to play second fiddle anymore. He was going to go to that training deck and practice with this new weapon. Try it out on his own a little, maybe work through some basic cardio routines to build up his stamina.

Excitedly, Lance pushed himself off his bed, slammed his helmet on his head perhaps a little too aggressively, and stormed to his door - only to turn right back around at the sound of Keith and Shiro’s voices in the hall. He was going to train and practice in order to show Keith he was just as good … but he was going to do it in private.

Lance waited nearly an hour for all the bedroom doors to hiss shut, then another two hours after that to ensure everyone was asleep. Quietly, he put his armour back on, grabbed his helmet, and silently made his way to the training deck. 

As expected it was totally deserted this late into the Castle’s night cycle. Lance accessed the control panel, selecting the training sequence he wanted to start with, and set the timer for one hour. That was plenty of time to do his stretches, run a few laps around the room, and maybe do a few other exercises. 

Lance sat on the mats and spread his legs straight out to the sides as far as they’d go in each direction. He reached over with his hand to grasp the sole of his right foot, leaning his entire torso down against his thigh, and stretched out the tight muscles, repeating the motion on the other side for symmetry. He brought his legs in and pressed his feet together, clasping his hands over his toes and pulling them in as close to his pelvis as he could manage, leaning forward to really feel that stretch. 

It burned, but it was a good burn. After the butterfly stretch, Lance moved on to lunges then a quick (but basic) yoga routine to stretch his back and arms. Given that Lance would be working with a sword and swinging his arms around in motions his body wasn’t used to making, he decided to spend a little extra time focusing on stretching those muscles as well as the ones in his neck, shoulders, and upper back. The last thing he wanted was to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

After he deemed himself fully stretched and warmed up, Lance began to run laps. He jogged around the edge of the training deck at a steady, but not unreasonable, pace. After 10 full laps of the room, he moved on to jumping jacks, counting to 50 before switching to burpees. He did a full set of 50 burpees then jogged a relaxed 2 laps around the training deck to slow his heart rate. He then sat back on the mats and stretched out his legs, arms, shoulders, and back once more before jumping to his feet and resuming his laps. 

Lance figured, since he didn’t know how much time had passed, that it would be good practice to just run laps and fight the gladiator when it dropped. Rarely on the battlefield did you get a countdown before a sentry or Galra soldier started firing at you, so this would help his response time. Sure enough, the deployment of the gladiator took him by surprise and Lance nearly tripped as he jumped out of the way of its staff. He hadn’t managed to summon his bayard fast enough to parry the attack, but he did manage to avoid taking a hit so he’d count that as a win.

Two hours later and Lance was sufficiently exhausted from his extra training session. He quickly ran through a third round of stretches, determined to ward off any muscle stiffness, before he grabbed his things and headed for the showers. 

The steaming water felt oh-so-wonderful against his tired muscles and it sent a wave of pleasant tingles across his skin. He washed his hair and body in silence before starting on his skincare routine. Once finished, he dried off and applied his facemask in the mysteriously not-fogged Altean mirror before making his way back to his room.

He changed into his silky blue paladin PJs and peeled off the facemask, before applying a generous layer of moisturizer and crawling into bed. His head barely hit the pillow and Lance’s eyes were already shutting in exhaustion.

* * *

In the morning Lance woke feeling refreshed. He had a pleasant ache in his muscles but it was nothing painful, just a dull sense that they’d been used more than they had in a long while. He got up, ate a bowl of food goo with Hunk, then joined the big guy in delivering a bowl to the Green Lion’s hangar for Pidge. They hung out there for a bit, just the three of them for old times sake, before they finally made their way to the training deck for team practice.

First up was Paladin bonding. They sat in their circle and bonded. It was lame and it was always the same. _Heh, that rhymed._ He thought to himself.

“It was a shitty rhyme.” Keith poked and Lance gaped at him for a whole two ticks before remembering he was wearing the stupid brain band thing.

“It’s a ‘mind-melding headband’, Lance.” Keith deadpanned, still prodding around unwanted in his brain. Lance conjured an image of Kaltenecker pooping on Keith’s head and the Red Paladin groaned and chucked his ‘mind-melding headband’ across the circle at him. Worth it.

“Keith - Lance,” Shiro sighed in exasperation. “Can we _please_ not do this again?” The two boys grumbled but settled back down at his request.

An hour later and they had successfully formed the little holographic Voltron ten times. Shiro deemed this acceptable and the team moved on to combat training. 

Lance had drastically improved between yesterday’s training and today. He was already better able to keep up and the sword felt more comfortable in his hand after spending two hours familiarizing himself with the weapon last night. Dare he say he was actually proud of his accomplishment. He wasn’t good enough, not yet, but he’d made some major strides.

The training lasted four grueling hours before Coran called over the intercom that there was a fleet of Galra cruisers closing in on them. The Paladins ran (except Keith who hobbled) to their respective Lions and flew out to ‘greet’ their visitors. 

In their Lions, Keith and Lance reverted back to their old roles, Red swooping around the battle zone and literally flying circles around the fighter pods, while Blue used her freeze ray and tail blaster to stop pods from swarming the others. It was just like how they fought outside their Lions, and Lance had a newfound respect for the level of focus it took to dart around as quickly as Keith did. No wonder Lance was always coming in second to the guy, he was just so damn talented.

After the Galra pods had been defeated, the Paladins promptly headed for the showers, followed by the dining hall for their team dinner. It was nice that Allura insisted on these group dinners, without them Lance felt like he’d never see Keith or Pidge as the two arms had a habit of isolating themselves. Plus, Shiro and Allura both tended to spend far too much time on the bridge planning Voltron’s next move or calculating risks, or finding civilizations to save. And that didn’t even touch on Coran who was always off fixing or recalibrating something. Without these communal dinners, it would be easy for the team to stop being a unit and start being individuals forced together. 

Lance should do something about that, he should force them all to hang out with each other as a group for things other than combat training or Galra fighting. They had an actual Alien Princess in their midst and it would be super cool to learn more about her people. 

A glob of food goo hit his face and Lance let out a shriek (a very manly shriek) as he flung himself back on instinct. Those instincts, however, caused his chair to tip back and fall, landing Lance flat on the unforgiving floor as Keith laughed across from him.

“Ha-Ha, very funny.” Lance scowled as he rolled out of the chair and pushed himself to stand, picking up the furniture and plopping himself back down with a huff. 

“I thought so,” Keith teased, baiting him with a smirk. Lance glanced around the room looking for support but found none.

Allura and Shiro were deeply discussing something that was probably super important to the universe as a whole. Pidge was ignoring her food in favour of typing on the laptop that was never out of reach. Hunk was finishing off the last of his own goo while eyeing up Pidge’s bowl. And Coran was fighting off the space mice from trying to beat Hunk to Pidge’s abandoned dinner. 

_Looked like he was on his own then_. That was fine, he was fine, Lance could totally go toe-to-toe with Keith. 

He turned back, devastatingly witty comeback lined up and ready to go, but Keith had vanished. He just managed to catch Keith’s retreating frame as the door hissed shut behind him. 

_That bastard!_ Lance thought, stopping himself from frowning at the now-closed door; the last thing he needed was to give himself a wrinkle.

* * *

While he’d managed to best Lance at dinner, the rest of the evening was admittedly spent hiding in his room. Keith knew Lance well enough to know the boy would come looking for him to pick a fight, level the playing field, duke it out, or whatever. While there was no doubt in his mind that he could take Lance in a hand-to-hand fight, with his ankle as tender as it was he honestly didn’t think he’d win this time. 

The only safe spaces were his bedroom or inside Red. But Keith didn’t feel like sitting in his Lion right now, he felt like working out. 

Going to the training deck and working through his regular routine would earn the ire of Shiro who’d been keeping an annoyingly close eye on him since this stupid injury. It wasn’t like it was _his_ fault the stupid healing pods couldn’t handle his genetics, he didn’t _ask_ to be half alien. 

Keith stretched as far as his hamstrings would let him, inching his fingers past the edge of his toes and feeling the sweet, sweet burn. He’d get a quick workout in, while safe from prying eyes in his room, then hopefully be able to sneak out to the training deck without getting caught by Shiro and dragged back and being told to stay off his ankle.

The training deck was usually deserted this late and, even though he’d caught Lance leaving last night, the Blue Paladin was not typically one to spend much time there. Keith had absolute faith that the room would be empty.

The room was not empty.

With a groan, he made his way up to the observation room after finding the training deck occupied by none other than the aforementioned pain-in-Keith’s-ass. Not wanting to get into a fight, he used the separate entrance and climbed the stairs up to the large room. At least from here he could watch for Lance leaving.

Keith turned on the screens so he could keep an eye on the Castle’s newest Gym Rat and started on a few warm-up stretches … again. He could go through some of his forms and taekwondo routines here, and maybe do some meditation to help work on his ability to stay still. Unfortunately, all these big plans were brought to a halt when Keith glanced up at the screen and happened to catch Lance doing a backflip off the gladiator’s chest plate. Keith’s jaw dropped to the floor and he leaned forward in his stretch to get a better view of the scene playing in front of him. 

Lance was running again, the gladiator chasing him across the empty room as he zigzagged his way along the holographic obstacle course. A few of the objects must have been real because one minute a streak of white and blue was zipping by a large block, and the next it was twisting through the air after having leapt off another. 

Keith watched as Lance activated his bayard mid-air, forming the sleek sword he’d been using in their last two practices, and promptly sliced his way down the back of the gladiator. It was the single most gracefully brutal thing Keith had ever witnessed. It was the single most overt display of flexibility and innate agility that Keith had ever witnessed. It was the single hottest thing that Keith had. Ever. Witnessed. 

He stared at the screen, his mouth still somewhere on the floor, as Lance returned his bayard to its dormant state and wiped the sweat from his brow. Lance typed something into the small control panel and a swarm of round orbs flew from the walls. The bayard shifted into his signature rifle this time and Lance lowered himself into a crouch. 

Immediately Keith realized the golden opportunity he’d just been given; a chance to have Lance train him how to be the team’s sniper without Keith having to humble himself and ask for help. 

He jumped to his feet, wincing at the sharp spike of pain from his ankle, and mimicked Lance’s stance. Keith crouched low and shifted his bayard into rifle form, watching and echoing each of Lance’s moves as he breathed deep.

In a flash, the orb flung themselves around the training deck and began spinning in a dizzying circle around Lance. One by one they crossed his line of sight and, one by one the orbs exploded as he hit them. Before Keith could even process what was happening, all of the orbs were lying scattered on the mats below. 

That was - _holy shit_ ! He didn’t even know there was a setting for that in the training programs! At this rate, Lance could soon take his place as the swordsman, but Keith could NOT replace _that_ level of precise marksmanship. He didn’t know whether he was offended or impressed … perhaps a bit of both. 

When he looked back up to the screens Lance had switched his bayard into a sword once again. He was dodging blasts from the replacement gladiator and swinging at it in a wide arch. His form was a little sloppy and he was standing too far away when he swung, clearly afraid to get close, but otherwise performed remarkably well. It was evident that his true comfort and skill lie with the rifle but Keith had definitely underestimated his physical prowess. Voltron was damn lucky to have a sniper as skilled as Lance on their team. 

Keith gasped as he watched the gladiator drop him to the mats and nearly send a metal knee through his skull, but Lance rolled out of the way in the nick of time. He couldn’t help but stare as Lance rocked himself back and jumped to his feet, instantly somersaulting away from another shot. 

* * *

Lance ducked and rolled as the gladiator dropped its knee right where his head had just been. The stupid robot had gotten the jump on him and kicked out his feet, sending him crashing to the mats below. As he rolled, Lance rocked his hips up to build the momentum needed to propel himself up to his feet. 

This was one of the first tricks he’d learned in gymnastics, and it was entirely because he thought it looked cool. The whole point of joining the classes had been to impress a girl in his school, but Lance had lucked out and fallen in love with the sport instead. 

With a shriek, Lance moved as quickly as possible. The gladiator nearly got him that time, its weapon firing just behind his left foot as he somersaulted out of range. He nearly botched the landing in his haste, which would have left him just as _lame_ as Keith. Spinning around, he saw that the light in the observation room was still on. He’d noticed it earlier too, but had just assumed Coran was probably in there doing something Coran-y. But it had already been nearly an hour and the light was still on. _Odd_. 

Maybe he’d check it out after he beat this gladiator … or it beat him, whichever came first.

* * *

A shadow moved. He caught it out of the corner of his eye, but he definitely caught it! Whoever - or _whatever -_ was up there definitely wasn’t Coran. Based on the quick glimpse he’d gotten, it couldn’t be Shiro or Hunk either since the frame was too slight. It took an act of God to coax Pidge away from her laptop, which meant it was either Allura or Keith. 

He supposed it could be another Castle ghost, but the last one had just turned out to be a corrupted King Alfor and he was gone now. Allura wasn’t really the ‘ _sneak around in the dark after hours_ ’ type so Lance was putting his money on it being Keith. But what was their resident emo doing lurking up in the observation room while Lance was training? 

This had bad news written all over it. 

The controls for the eclectic maze were in that room, as were the manual overrides for the gladiator and the floating orbs. _Mierda,_ Lance was an idiot! Of course it was Keith, he was probably going to prank him or zap him or something. 

Lance unleashed everything he had into charging at the gladiator, slicing its right leg at the knee, and spinning around to plunge his bayard into its chest. The little light blinked twice before going out and the floor swallowed up the deactivated bot. 

Lance wasted no time in closing down the program and darting over to the safety of the sidelines. There was no way he was going to let Ol’ Keithy boy get the drop on him, no way!

He sheathed his bayard and started on his cool-down stretches, deciding this was a decent enough time to call it a night anyway. He could use a little extra time in a luxurious shower tonight after a workout like this, his pores definitely deserved it. 

* * *

Lance had _not_ been listening to Shiro’s instructions, sure he’d _said_ he did, but he definitely didn’t. Which meant he had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to be doing, no idea whatsoever, not the foggiest. Which is how he realized just a little too late that he’d somehow agreed to trek through this stupid jungle with stupid Keith for a stupid rock. It was stupid.

The good news was that Keith was still hobbling along so Lance didn’t have to worry about trying to keep up with him as usual. Instead, they’d set a nice leisurely pace and Lance could whistle (because it was annoying Keith), and skip (because it was annoying Keith), and even dance some of his steps (because it was annoying Keith). Suffice to say, by the time they reached the stupid rock, his stupid tag-along-mullet was as fiery as the Lion he flew.

The shiny rock they needed was located about halfway up a much larger rock and given the state of Keith’s ankle, it was Lance who was supposed to retrieve it. Yea, he’d just get right on that. Scale the side of a _cliff_ for some stupid rock. Did he mention this was stupid?

The only good thing was Keith looked genuinely upset that he didn’t get to free climb up a cliff face. 

“Awww, wassa madder Keefy?” Lance teased at Keith’s full-blown pout, deciding to milk this for everything it was worth.

“Just shut up and get the rock,” Keith grumbled. 

_“Ughh, not this again. Can’t you two ever just work together peacefully?”_ Hunk whined over their comms. _“It’s starting to get old.”_

“ _Starting to?”_ Pidge muttered, just barely loud enough for her mic to pick up.

Lance chose to take the high road and be the respectable adult who lets things go …. Nah, he stuck out his tongue and made a fart noise at them. 

“ _Mature, Lance.”_ Shiro deadpanned. 

But Keith - Keith snickered. 

It was enough to send Lance into the mental equivalent of shock. On top of that, Keith actually shot back with a slightly condescending “stop sending us on missions together if you don’t want to hear us bicker. Just a thought, Shiro,” and Lance laughed so hard he nearly lost his grip. 

* * *

They made it back to the Castleship more or less unscathed. Keith had managed to shoot the weird bird thing that tried to fly away with Lance for stealing its egg, and Lance had managed to activate his bayard mid-air while cradling the not-really-a-rock to slice at the bird-thing’s feet. It promptly let him go, but he was high enough up that the fall was loud and crunchy. 

Lance had groaned in pain over the comms but didn’t put up nearly as much of a fuss as Keith had expected. He’d held his breath waiting for the dramatic mix of rapid-fire Spanish and hand gestures, but nothing happened. Instead, Lance rolled with a grunt onto his back and shifted his bayard into rifle form, taking aim, and _BANG -_ a second bird-thing fell from the sky. 

Keith hadn’t even noticed it nearby, but Lance had. Following the moves he’d watched Lance use on the training deck the night before, Keith crouched and readied his own rifle, the red bayard still looking slightly different from Lance’s. He took three deep breaths, just like Lance had, and held the gun the same way. His rifle didn’t have a scope, but Keith had never needed one, so he took aim and waited, just like Lance had, and as the angry bird-thing doubled back for its revenge - Keith took the shot. 

It was a perfect shot, he’d hit the bird square in the chest and it dropped like a rock. The sound of more shots drew his attention to Lance and the fact that, in Keith’s one shot, Lance had made four more clean kills.

Keith rolled his eyes but retrieved his injured comrade and helped support his weight as they _both_ limped back to the Castle. If Keith’s hand sat just a little lower on Lance’s waist than was strictly necessary, well, no one needed to know that.

* * *

The pod opened and Lance shook off the chill as he stepped out. He didn’t fully remember stepping in if he was being honest, but he did notice that no one was around. He deflated a little, sort of hoping to receive a ‘welcoming party’ like everyone usually did. A shuffling sound caught his attention and Lance turned to see that Keith was sitting against his pod. 

He furrowed his brow wondering just how long he’d been in there for everyone to have already left but Keith. Actually, if everyone else was gone, why _was_ Keith still here?

“Why are you still here?” He asked, voicing his inner monologue and immediately watching Keith jolt with surprise and blush a brilliant shade of red. _Huh,_ he thought, _odd_ . “Aww, you trying to catch me all alone, Mullet?” Lance teased, deciding to play it off. God only knows how many times that asshole had made _him_ blush. 

“Actually, yeah,” Keith said, recovering annoyingly quickly. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“Last ... night?” Lance questioned, having absolutely no idea what Keith might be talking about.

Keith simply nodded, frowned, bit his lip, then frowned again. It was like watching every one of his thoughts play out in real time.

“I usually head for the training deck after everyone’s asleep, fewer distractions you know? And, also because Shiro would drag my ass away if he knew how much time I _actually_ spent there.” Keith chuckled fondly at the thought, but Lance only scrunched his brow more. This was starting to sound like Keith was opening up to him - trying to connect, _bond_ , with him. With Lance!

“I went to the training deck and saw it was occupied so I went up to the observation room to do some stretches while I waited.” He blushed lightly and his eyes, which had been focused intently on the floor, darted up to Lance before dropping back down to his feet, then back to Lance. 

A fire seemed to ignite behind them and Keith met Lance’s eyes with a new level of determination, before he let out a breath and pressed on. “Figured I’d wait you out,” he shrugged again, “so I turned on the screens so I could watch for you leaving and ended up watching most of your session with the gladiator. It was crazy impressive how well you did. I know Shiro said something earlier about how much you’d improved and all, but I wanted to point it out too ‘cause, you know, I know you worked hard.”

Lance stared at him, mouth open, jaw on the control panel - nay, the floor. Did Keith just - _compliment him????_

Lance.exe has stopped working.

“Uh, Lance?” Keith waved his hand in front of Lance’s face awkwardly with an unsure look in his eyes. “Dude, you okay?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah I’m good!” Lance over-corrected, shooting right past casual and landing squarely in frantic territory. “I was just practicing a bit, you know? Trying to get a feel for the weapon change. A sword is harder than it looks.”

“So is a rifle,” Keith said as he offered a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry I said you just stand around, there’s a lot more to it. Takes a lot of skill and focus to do what you do.”

“Yeah, but you did great,” Lance replied because, he did. Keith had filled Lance’s shoes effortlessly and Lance had just clumsily jumped around and tried not to get hit.

“I did alright,” Keith shrugged, “but it was really hard to focus. My whole body was buzzing and I just needed to _move._ I don’t know how you stand it, how you can stay perfectly still and breathe and focus and take a perfect shot every time! Its bullshit is what it is.” he rambled and Lance was just staring at him, dumbfounded yet again.

Keith felt like he couldn’t keep up with Lance? Had they somehow crossed into an alternate reality while he was in that pod and he’d just not noticed? Was this some sort of alternate-Keith he was talking to?

“Dude, I struggled so hard the other day!” Lance countered.

“Well ya, but you did way better yesterday and today, plus you were working with a weapon you’ve never used.”

“So were you.”

“No, I’ve used a rifle before.”

Lance was now more confused than ever. When would Keith have ever used a sniper rifle?

“When would you have ever used a sniper rifle?” Lance asked.

“Well, not a _sniper_ rifle, but when I was a kid my dad used to take me hunting. He had a Remington 700 and he’d let me shoot sometimes. When the rangers weren’t around of course.” Keith smirked conspiratorially and a fond little smile played at the corner of his mouth as his eyes fell back to the floor, lost in a memory Lance wasn’t going to ask about. Keith shook it off with a shrug, “I’m familiar enough with the equipment.”

“My uncle had one of those,” Lance smiled back, sharing in the nostalgia and not really wanting this camaraderie to end. “It was the first gun I ever shot.”

“Same,” Keith said as he nodded along. He paused for a moment, a look that could only be described as ‘constipation face’ crossing over his features as he warred with himself over whether or not to speak whatever had just crossed his mind. He must’ve come to a decision because the next second his face had hardened into determination once again. 

“You’re super flexible,” Keith continued and clearly regretted it immediately as his eyes blew wide and a dark blush crossed his cheeks at Lance’s shock. “I mean, I watched you do your cool down stretches -”

“You watched me?”

“- and you’re crazy flexible! And you’re actually pretty fast. It was impressive to watch, but you need to work on your foot movements and adjust your grip on the sword’s handle.”

“Oh, so we’re just gonna breeze right past your venture into voyeurism?” 

“Yes … wait, WHAT? No, I wasn’t - that’s not - I -”

Lance burst out into a fit of laughter at Keith’s panic. “Relax, dude. I’m just giving you a hard time,” he teased.

* * *

Keith tried not to stare as Lance’s whole face lit up from his laughter. He’d just made a total ass of himself by admitting to being some sort of creep, even if it had been accidental. He didn’t _mean_ to watch Lance for over an hour. And he didn’t _mean_ to be creepy, even though he totally understood how it could be taken that way. It wasn’t _his_ fault Lance’s fluid movements were so damn captivating, like watching a skilled dancer or a gymnast.

He’d just meant to tell Lance not to put so much pressure on himself, to let him know that he was doing a good job and that Keith had taken notice. Maybe give him some pointers. That’s all. It wasn’t Keith’s fault that he had absolutely zero social skills and came off slightly creepy instead of sincere. _Whoops_. 

He scowled at Lance as the boy laughed at his expense. “You about done yet?” he asked, tone dry and mildly annoyed, even if it was mostly directed at himself. 

“Done?” Lance wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes, “dude, I’m gonna be laughing about this for weeks.”

“Great,” Keith mumbled under his breath. So much for paying him a compliment and leaving it at that. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, that it would just bite him in the ass; it usually did when Lance was involved.

“Whatever,” he dismissed, deciding to cut his losses before embarrassing himself any further, “just forget I said anything.”

Keith turned and limped from the room which definitely didn’t help in the embarrassment department. 

“WAIT!” Lance called after him, jogging to catch up, and reaching out to grab the sleeve of Keith’s jacket. The pod had healed him perfectly and Keith was _maybe_ a little envious of that.

“What?” He snipped, his jealousy over Lance’s fluid and unhindered movements leaking into his tone.

“Sorry, I was just taken off guard that you were, you know, actually being nice to me,” Lance replied with a sheepish smile, his head down but his strikingly blue eyes looking up at Keith through thick brown lashes.

“I can be nice” he mumbled as he stood there, pinned under the intensity of those ocean blues staring back at him. Keith summoned his strength and looked down, finally noticing that Lance still held his sleeve in a grip. “Uh, you gonna let me go?” he asked.

“What? OH, yeah, sorry - again.”

Keith chuckled in response, “It's fine” he smiled and turned, quickly leaving before Lance could see him blushing like an idiot.

* * *

That was weird right? Yeah, yeah, it was definitely weird. Keith was … _weird._ It was probably Lance’s fault for grabbing his jacket but he couldn’t help it! Keith was being nice to him and he’d wanted that moment to last. But of COURSE he had to go and ruin it with being all grabby and handsy and _ughhhh_. 

Part of him wanted to go to Keith’s room and apologize again. Part of him thought the other part of him was an idiot. All of him needed to go talk to Hunk, stat.

* * *

Hunk had been no help, some best friend he was supposed to be. 

His answer to the question “ _Why does Keith ‘Keith’?”_ had been an incredibly unhelpful smirk. Honestly, what was Lance supposed to do with that total non-answer?

“So he was still sitting in the medbay when you got out of the pod?” Hunk asked, seemingly trying to confirm a hypothesis. Lance nodded. “And you’re sure Shiro wasn’t there? He’d said he was going to stay when he sent us all to bed.”

“No dude, like I said, it was just the Mullet.” 

“Hmmm” Hunk responded, quite literally bringing his hand up to his chin in thought. “No Coran?”

“No! Just Mullet-head.”

“Hmmmm” 

_Ughh_ Lance was starting to lose his patience. “So?” he tried to prompt, “what do you think? Why’s he being weird all of a sudden?”

“Okay, now hear me out and don’t get all ‘Lance’ and go supersonic-only-dogs-can-hear-me-now okay?”

Lance huffed at him indignantly but motioned for the giant teddy bear to continue.

“Okay, so, Keith is either A) an evil replacement Keith that those Blade of Marmora people placed amongst us while they kept the _real_ Keith to run sneaky experiments on and learn more about humans.” Lance rolled his eyes at the absurdity.

“B) Keith hit his head really hard.” That one Lance snickered at.

“Or C) Keith has a not-at-all-subtle crush on you dummy.” The last one took him totally off guard.

“WHAT?” He shrieked! “Keith does _not_ have a crush on me!”

“Okay - then he’s either got brain damage or he’s an evil alien clone.” Hunk didn’t even bother feigning sincerity that time and Lance was left sputtering about how ridiculous it was. “Lance, buddy, I love you - I do, more than you know. But please, I need to go back to sleep. Can you have your existential crisis somewhere else?”

And that was how Lance found himself standing outside Keith’s room, pacing back and forth in the hall, before finally working up the courage to knock.


End file.
